Sunday, 29 April 2012

This was actually completed the same day Ch. 6 was finished/put up, but we wanted to let 6 stew for a bit. Whatever. Please tell others to read 6 and then 7 if you guys see this.--------------

7.

FLUFFY…CLOUD…BUNNIES

Hammond
looked at the girl, the anger plain on his face while the bewilderment surged
through his voice, somehow making one word sound like a death threat.

“What?”

The
girl nodded.

“Cornucopia.”
She repeated, the fact that she seemed thoroughly unconcerned by the tone of
darkness in his voice displeasing Hammond at an even higher rate. “It was a
cornucopia of sounds. At the street.”

Hammond
rubbed his temple irritably in an attempt to cut off the headache he could feel
coming on before it reached its full potential.

“And
what does cornucopia mean?” he asked in a grinding voice, only slightly less
threateningly than his previous sentence. Or word. Whatever.

The
girl frowned and looked up at the ceiling.

“I
don’t know.” She said slowly after a long pause just, answering just in time to
stop Hammond commanding an answer. “But it sounds exotic, don’t you think? ‘Cornucopia’…”

Hammond
growled menacingly… If this girl had been anyone else, she would be dead at
this moment. Actually, she would have been dead long before this moment. Most
likely the second she had set foot in his office. For she had annoyed him the
second she had stepped into his office. But unfortunately, this girl had just happened
to be his niece. Hammond’s sister had asked him to take care of the girl for a
few weeks. This was day two and already he was thinking about killing her in
the most painful way possible. He had hoped that she might have her mother’s
evil streak, but instead she got her father’s idiotic head. And she had picked
the worst possible name ever for herself.

‘Clousdina
Madonna.’

The
stupidity of some people…

A
small translucent button suddenly flashed blue and Hammond pressed it at once,
opening the door in front of him to let in one of his workers, relieved at the
excuse to end the horribly structured conversation with his niece. A small man
dressed in a black suit with dark sunglasses walked in slowly, professionally,
as he had been taught. It was a well-known fact that Hammond hated bad news.
Most people would almost always be punished if they bought to him nothing but
bad news. Punished quite brutally… Yet it was also a well-known fact that
Hammond wanted to know anything and everything that happened, good and bad news
alike. Piles of unread mission reports on successful or failed Remaining
assignments lay neatly stacked on his desk while the reports that had been read
lay crammed in a huge filing cabinet behind him, having slowly amassed over the
years.

“Sir,
I’m afraid we have some bad news,” he said hesitantly once he had come to a
halt in front of Hammond’s desk. Hammond now recognized the man; he was Arlov
Travvinks. Hammond knew his workers, employees, servants and slaves all by
their voices rather than appearance. This was mostly because Hammond was almost
always reading a report while talking to his working Remaining’s and therefor,
did not actually look at them. It may appear weird, but, naturally, Hammond
killed anyone who raised the matter. He did not have time for such impotent
pests…

“Yes…”
Hammond asked him, already short on patience “What is it?”

Clousdina
laughed.

“I
had a dream about fluffy cloud bunnies last night.” She said expectantly. “They
were incredibly vicious for their size and the way they ripped apart the goat
like that really made the entire thing vivid.”

For
a moment, Hammond was slightly stunned at the sound of his niece, who he had
thought to be something of a day dreamer of things most people thought were
comforting, say something so evilly explicit. It was only for a moment,
however, and Hammond was soon pointing a gun at the back of Clousdina’s head
while she examined the wall with a fascinated expression. It took all of his
self-control to put the gun down and face the man again, and even then he had
come far too close to putting a bullet through her brain of which who knew what
went on inside…

“Sir,”
Arlov said, coughing himself into speech. “Galko’s plans in England have been
delayed due to cause of the Sanctuary, unfortunately, venturing too close to
his base of operations in an unrelated investigation. He has had to pack up the
machine and move elsewhere.”

Hammond
took a deep breath, which, instead of calming him, only aggravated him more.

“Why?
Why hasn’t he just killed them all?” he asked irritably, turning around to the
cabinet in search of Galko’s file.

“Because,
uh, he can’t, sir.... He doesn’t have the resources we have here. Sir.” Arlov
added quickly.

Hammond
abandoned searching for Galko’s file and leant forward on the desk, his head
pounding.

“You
don’t need resources to put fear into people.” He said
confidently. “Just me getting out of jail has put tons of fear into people. With
a small group, you can do any number of things.”

“Yes
sir.” Arlov said, bowing slightly. “Of course sir.”

“Shut
up.” Hammond demanded of him and Arlov straighten up looking flustered, even
with the sunglasses on. “And what of our
plans then?”

“Going
forward without interruption, sir.” He said, seemingly glad that he could bring
Hammond some kind of good news. “Forgive me, sir, but may
I ask…Why did you let Keeve be captured?”

Hammond’s
hand found the gun which he had lay down on the desk and aimed it at the man’s
face who recorrected himself at once.

There
was a slight hesitation befoee Arlov straightened up again slowly.

“Really,
sir?” he asked nervously.

He
was dead before he hit the ground.

“No.”
Hammond growled at the corpse. “No you may not ask.”

“Can
I
ask?” Clousdina looked over at Hammond, a curious expression on her face. She
didn’t seem bothered by the dead body lying on the carpet. Perhaps there was
hope for her after all.

Hammond
struggled to stand; he had spent a long time in prison, cut off from his magic.
Being a warlock, they had to have a special cell to make sure he didn’t die, and that kept him from completely aging. Instead, he just aged faster than
a sorcerer, and slower than a mortal. So instead of the young man that had
entered the cell, and the old man that should have come out of it, he was about
forty five. Not too bad, but it was still taking some getting used to his new
restrictions.

Hammond
stood up, looking at his niece.

“No.”
he said with much less aggression than the last time he had addressed her.

“Why
not?” she asked.

“Because
I said so.”

“Why
should I listen to you?”

“Shut
up…” Hammond growled.

“You
know, it would be easier to just tell me.” Clousdina said teasingly. She knew
what she was doing.

Hammond
sighed.

“Because,
my dear girl,” he said, trying to bring a smirk to his face. “If they know they
have a traitor, they won’t trust anyone else. They won’t trust their team, and
they’ll make the mistake of thinking that they don’t need the team. We’ll take
them down, and nothing will stand between us and victory. Happy now?”

“That’s
kind of an overused line, don’t you think?”

“…What?”

“‘Nothing
standing between us and victory’. It’s a little overused.”
“Isn’t there another word for that?”

“You
mean repetition?” she asked.

“No,
I meant cliché…”

“Oh.
Well come to think of it, the world ‘cliché’ is a little overused too.”

“Shut
up.” Hammond sighed.

Hammond
stepped over the body and made his way over to the door. He opened it and
shouted for the nearest girl to come over. She trotted over as fast as her
little high-heeled shoes allowed her to, a terrified expression plastered to
her face.

“Send
someone to clean that up,” he said, nodded his head back into his room. “Or do
it yourself. I don’t care.” The girl peered over his shoulder and her face
turned even paler.

“And
spread the word. We need to start phase two.” He added with a note of urgency.

The
girl nodded and walked away. Actually, it was more of a stagger…

A
few seconds later, Clousdina yelled from the room.

“Phase
two? That’s the best you could come up with? What a terrible title!”

Thursday, 26 April 2012

“Your hearing is going to be fine,
you’ll be pleased to hear.” the Sanctuary doctor said, peering into Nixion’s
ears, completely ignoring his personal space. On the outside Nixion made an
effort to scowl.

On the inside he remained slumped and
depressed. He was still recovering from the death of Thomas. Nixion felt that
it had been his own fault that Thomas, the thirteen year old boy with a caring
family, had been killed. In actual fact, Nixion had had nothing to do with the
boy’s death, but he still felt guilty for some unknown reason. It was only then
did Nixion realize what was going on. These things kept happening inside of
him, things that he kept feeling that normally don’t stir at all; Nixion was
changing, and, thus far, he could not tell whether or not he liked where he was
heading. Nixion was brought back to Earth by the Healer who bent down and spoke
louder and closer to his ear.

“Or perhaps not…” the healer said
purposefully.

Nixion let out a yell of surprise and
jerked away from the healer as he laughed. His mood did not lift, but Nixion
could not help being slightly glad that his hearing was going to be fine. He
had been worried that they had been delayed for too long or damage done had
been too extensive.

“Don’t try something like that again
or you’ll find your world a land of pain.” Nixion continued in a snarl, trying
to appear like his usual arrogant, superior self.

“Uh…right.” The healer said shiftily,
seeming to regret his moment of amusement which made Nixion feel superior
again, more like his usual self. They were back at the Sanctuary. Again. Nixion
could see now that this would most likely be the base of their operations until
this was all over. He had originally thought that Mist might have wanted to use
his house/base for the main meeting place and, at the time, Nixion had despised
the idea. He now found himself wishing they were using his place for the base
of operations. He felt so involved in this now. Keeve, Nixion had been informed
ten minutes ago by an irritable Mist, was currently being looked at by advanced
Healer’s and Sanctuary doctors. Nixion was all for killing Keeve on the spot,
but apparently that was illegal. Still, Nixion doubted that the Grand Mage
would really mind. He didn’t seem the responsible kind of type.

“Well…yes, you might have a little
bit of a hard time hearing for the rest of the day, but no permanent damage has
been done.” the healer continued uncomfortably as if frightened of displeasing
Nixion. Now he laughed on the inside.

Nixion was saved from having to
answer the healer by Mist slowly entering the room, one hand on his forehead.

“Headache…” he muttered in reply to
Nixion’s inquiring raised eyebrow. Mist had been sombre since they had found
Thomas dead, and didn’t even seem to care about the fate of his hearing.
Instead, he had busied himself with debriefing the Grand Mage, who was
apparently now obligated to personally oversee the investigation now that
someone had been killed, and other tedious tasks such as the writing of the
report on the incident and the paperwork for Thomas’s death.

“The report’s done, the Grand Mage
has specially assigned a squad of fifteen Cleavers to our use whenever we need
them on this case and apparently, we are the top people on the priority list to
everyone working at the Sanctuary.” Mist told Nixion, squinting as he struggled
to form understandable thoughts through his headache. He sighed and looked up
at the healer.

“How was Thomas killed?” Mist asked
the healer in a hollow voice. This was something Nixion still did not
understand. Why had a weak sonic wave attack from Keeve killed Thomas while one
ten times as strong had not killed either him or Mist? Did the intensity vary
for different people? The healer sighed.

“The soundwaves bounced off the metal
again and again, getting more intense every time it did so, until Thomas was
killed. Unfortunately for him, the only type of metal powerful enough to
rebound the sonic waves from Keeve was the kind he happened to be wearing at
the time. It also weakened the structure of the metal until it was able to be
torn be non-magical means. It was just bad luck that Thomas had that metal on
at the time; any other would only protect him. Quite unfortunate, really…”

“Unfortunate?” Mist asked
incredulously. “Unfortunate? Someone lost their life and it was unfortuna-?”
Nixion cut in quickly to avoid an argument.

“And how’s Keeve doing?” he asked
sharply. This made Mist stop talking at once and Nixion knew why. They were
obviously being played here. The Remaining had been waiting for them. A quick
search of the rooms showed that they weren’t being used, so Keeve and the
Hollow Men must have gotten there recently, tipped off by someone. They
wouldn’t have been stupid enough to actually stay there, so the army must have
been an ambush, an ambush for Mist, Nixion and Thomas, obviously. So this meant
that one of their allies was actually a traitor. The only way to find that out
would be to get the information out of Keeve. Nixion was confused about one
thing though; why had it been such a bad ambush? He knew that The Remaining
must have placed the only metal that would kill Thomas there on purpose and
picked Keeve to lead the attack because he would be able to produce the sonic
waves to kill whoever was wearing it. Which could only really be Thomas seeing
as he was the only who could bend the metal to fit him. They only had one of
The Remaining there. They could’ve all attacked at once and killed Nixion and
Mist along with Thomas. So why hadn’t they? The only explanation that Nixion
could think of was that they wanted everyone else alive. And that unnerved him.
The image of Keeve trying to get him to change sides, to join The Remaining,
flashed into Nixion’s head and he shivered. It involved him. He knew it did.
The healer frowned at a checklist he had raised to eyelevel.

“He has…” he said as if preparing
himself for something. “One snapped collarbone, two minor fractures in his
skull and one major, three broken ribs, one of which has punched his lung, and
extensive muscle damage in his right shoulder. His left arm is broken...” he
continued, scanning the list. “There’s a hairline fracture along his left shin
has apparently lost all vision in his right eye.” One of the Sanctuary agents
nearby overheard and looked up at them in surprise. Nixion shrugged.

“When we do things, we make sure we
do them right.” He said a matter-of-factly. For the first time since the fight,
Mist looked like he might smile. He seemed to struggle for a moment, though,
and the smile decided not to make an appearance.

“Keeve isn’t fit for any kind of
interrogation at this time and will not even be stable for a few days at the
least. Your friend here damaged him quite extensively, and he needs to be kept
under extreme medical care.” He said, gesturing to Nixion.

“It wasn’t all me,” Nixion replied,
pointing to Mist. “He threw him off the stage.” This made the healer look even
grumpier, if possible.

“Can’t you just do a quick patch up? Like a
mortal doctor, but faster.” Mist asked him in the same, dead voice. The healer
gave him a look.

“Do you want me to read the list of
injuries again?” he asked sceptically.

“When will he be ready then?” Mist
asked, impatience making an entry into his tone. The healer sighed, shook his
head and checked another clipboard. After making a few adjustments to it with a
pen, he looked back up at Mist with an answer.

“I would prefer to have him alone for
a few weeks at least to make sure he is going to stay alive, but the Grand Mage
has given us all orders to have whatever you want read.” He said irritably. “So
give us a few hours. He’ll be stable an in a condition to talk…” with that, he
strode out of the room, a tray of tools in his hands that reminded Nixion
horribly of the sharp objects that had been used to torture him.

Mist remained immobile for a moment
more, then nodded and exited the room again, Nixion following suit.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m dead
tired. I’m going to catch some sleep.” Nixion nodded but did not reply, and
started thinking hard. Making a decision on the spot, Nixion began to walk
towards the lounge where a few couches lay holding the majority of the group
and Mist followed. But Nixion quickly changed direction again and he saw that
Mist appeared to be thinking so hard, he didn’t even notice when Nixion lead
him to the holding cells. He turned on Mist once they had stopped and Mist was
snapped out of his trance.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he
asked angrily.

“Why are we here…?” Mist asked,
looking around the prison cells and ignoring Nixion’s own question. He was the
one who hadn’t been paying attention, thinking about his past. If Mist was
doing this as well, they could miss something important. One of them had to be
paying attention to the things happening around them, and it sure as hell
wasn’t going to be Nixion.

“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Nixion repeated and Mist bit his lip. Then he said something to Nixion that was
so unlike Mist that Nixion had to grin. “Only as a last resort,” he warned
Nixion.

“Yeah, sure.” He replied quickly, but
he was buzzing at the chance of doing something like that. Mist gave him a sad
look as if he knew that he was enjoying the fact that he was loving something
that everyone else would hate. Nixion was being pitied. Nixion didn’t care
though. He walked back towards the lounge, thinking happy, violent thoughts. He
was still thinking them as he fell asleep and his dreams were of violent days.

“You
be deaded,“ Nixion said happily to the corpse. Not that the corpse could hear
him. Kind of hard to do without a head. Nixion swaggered over to another
corpse. He frowned at it as it shivered and stared up at him, looking
frightened. This corpse wasn’t dead. It was an alive corpse. Was it a corpse if
it wasn’t dead? A corpse was a dead body, and this body was definitely alive.
It was an alive corpse, Nixion decided. It would be dead, but it just wasn’t
now. The alive corpse splayed its hand, and Nixion was sent flying backwards
through the air. Grunting, he landed heavily on the grass and grinned after
sitting up. It was a magic alive corpse. He leaped up and easily dodged a
fireball that had been hurled in his general direction. Nixion didn’t get the
chance to fight as much as he wanted to anymore. Mostly he just killed people.
Mortals and sorcerers alike, neither group ever put up much of a fight, which
was a shame. Today he had decided to stalk a group of people to this grassy
area, and had taken leisure in killing them. He wasn’t quite sure how he had
managed to miss this one. Vaguely, Nixion wondered whether or not they had all
been sorcerers. It didn’t matter anymore, though, so he stopped dwelling on it.

He
moved out of the way as the magic alive corpse pushed the air again, and
stepped closer to it. He punched it in the stomach and it fell over, gasping.
This wasn’t a good fight. This was all too easy. This was making Nixion sad. Or
maybe annoyed. Sannoyed. Sannoyed or…or…

“Annad.”
He said out loud, leaning over the magic alive corpse, snarling.

“Huh?”
the magic alive corpse asked him, desperately trying to get to its feet.

“ANNAD!”
Nixion roared, his hand suddenly brandishing his machete. “ANNAD!” his
machete-arm flew around the air wildly and as the magic alive corpse attempted
to push him backwards with the air again, Nixion cut off its hand with a
vicious swipe.

It
roared and clutched its stump to its chest. The roar turn into pitiful weeping
and Nixion shook his head, trying to clear it. It still had one good hand but
just sat there, crying. Nixion plunged his machete into the magic alive
corpse’s chest, and it became just a corpse. He laughed for a moment, before
bringing a glare to his face which was directed at the grass.

“No,”
he said firmly. “Dead corpse.” Then he grinned evilly, and ran off into the
night. Except that it was more of an uneasy stagger away from the scene. And it
was broad daylight.

Nixion opened his eyes and realised
he was grinning. At once he wiped it off his face and glared around the room to
make sure no one had seen. Especially not Mist; it wouldn’t do him justice…

Insanity was fun. Of course, Nixion
was insane now, but the state of which he was in currently was nothing compared
to the madness that had once consumed him. When he cast a look around the room
again, however, Nixion saw that Mist was not there. He was probably pacing in
front of the Interrogation Rooms waiting to be let in to see Keeve… Satisfied
at the sight of everyone else in the group asleep except for Hunter and Dark
(who were both gazing blankly at the wall like a pair of Siamese Idiots), Nixion
stood up and stretched. Nixion vaguely
registered that he was hungry. Then he saw the time. Keeve should be ready by
now. Food could wait. He walked towards the Interrogation Rooms, completely
ignoring the medical facility. Mist had told him to go straight to the
Interrogation Rooms; Keeve seeing them before interrogation might make him a
little less scared…Or something. Nixion didn’t get how, but he didn’t care. Nor
did he actually understand. When he got there, Mist was waiting. Just like he
had thought…

“He’s ready,” Mist said at once
before walking into one of the rooms. Nixion took a deep breath before
following, amazed that Mist had waited for him. Keeve was sitting in a chair
looking thoroughly depressed. A large bandage was wrapped completely around his
head like a turban, only an extension had also been wrapped around his eye. His
arm and leg were both in casts and a large rise in his clothing around the ribs
told Nixion that they were also covered in bandages. There was a table in front
of him, and a chair on the other side. He was shackled, each hand cuffed to the
arm of the chair. The magic in the room wasn’t bound, but his magic was because
of the handcuffs. Mist sat in front of him. Nixion stood, leaning against the
wall. Keeve looked at Mist, seeming amused. “How are you feeling?” Mist asked.
Keeve moved a little.

“Sore.” he said. “But healing.” Then
he smiled. “How are your ears?” Nixion had to bite back his response. “There
fine,” Mist said.

“And the little Thomas boy?”

Nixion felt furry rise up in him. He
would have loved to smash that smiling face against the table. Instead, he
walked over and stepped on his prisoner regulation shoe, which was paper thin.
“Would you like a glass of water?” he asked innocently, while under the table his
boot crushed Keeve’s foot. Keeve gasped and looked up at him. It took a second,
but he shook his head. Nixion smiled and stepped back to the wall.

“Last chance,” Nixion said
threateningly. No reply. Mist sighed and stood up. He nodded at Nixion and
walked out the door. Nixion moved around and stood opposite Keeve at the table.
Keeve watched Mist leave. Then he smiled at Nixion.

“Something like that,” Nixion agreed,
then pushed the table powerfully. It slammed right into Keeve’s chest, knocking
him over in the chair. Nixion pulled the table back and walked over to Keeve,
who was lying on the floor, gasping and wincing. “Who’s the traitor?” he asked
brutally. Keeve just shook his head. Nixion smiled.

“You don’t want to do this with me.”
He waited a few seconds, then reached down and tapped Keeves elbow. Keeve
howled in pain as his good arm broke. “Just tell me who the traitor is,” Nixion
demanded. Keeve sobbed in pain, but didn’t say a word. Nixion pulled a key out
of his pocket, and released Keeve’s arms from the chair. Before Keeve could try
anything, Nixion pulled his broken arm behind Keeve and shackled it to his
other arm. Nixion then pushed Keeve to the ground. Keeve moaned as his broken
arm was put beneath him, keeping all his weight on it. “I’m giving you one last
chance. Tell me what I want to know.” Keeve stared defiantly at Nixion. Nixion
tapped his fingertips against Keeve’s knee, making sure to break it in such a
way that the bone pressed into the muscles tendons behind the knee. Keeve
opened his eyes wide in shock. He tried to breathe but only wheezed. “Who is
the traitor?” Nixion asked. “Who?” Nixion stepped on Keeve’s knee, pressing the
bone even deeper into the muscle tendons. Keeve screamed and screamed, the
sound reverberating against the walls sending them crashing against Nixion’s
ears which reminded him horribly of the sonic waves. Nixion knew, even with the
Sanctuary Healers, that Keeve may never be able to walk again. Keeve nodded
furiously, still screaming. Nixion stepped off the knee and knelt down to
Keeve. “Do we have a traitor?” Nixion asked.

“Yes,” Keeve moaned

“Who?” Keeve shook his head again.
Nixion pressed down on his knee with one hand.

“I was never told. Someone called me
from a blocked number and told me everything about you guys.”

“Male or female?”

“They had one of those voice changer
things. I couldn’t tell.” He gasped. Nixion sighed and stood up.

“You really are a pathetic criminal,
you know…” He walked out the door and saw a passing Sanctuary agent. “Will you
tell the Healers that they missed some injuries on that prisoner,” he said,
motioning back to the room before turning to Mist.

“We found out that we have a traitor,
didn’t we?” In truth, Nixion was regretting it as well. He hadn’t enjoyed that
as much as he thought he would, which surprised him. Once, he would have loved
doing stuff like that. Was he changing?

Wednesday, 25 April 2012

No, this is not more Nix and Mist. Both me and Mist have had our hands full with plenty of other stuff to write. But this is a post to say I have finished both chapter 6 and 7, and they are being edited. I finished chapter 6 when we started doing other stuff a while ago, so that's why the two were finished but not put out at the same time. I don't know how far Mist is in the editing, but who really cares? I'm not sure how many of you actually read Nix and Mist anymore. Oh, and by the way, I want to ask you all something. How do you like Nixion, the character. Is he annoying? Funny? Boring? I would just like to have some feedback about him.
That will be all.

Tuesday, 10 April 2012

So, quite a few things have been going on recently. I've started Battle for Blogland for one thing. I've started another story (but this is another collab. Blogland story so it will hopefully be interesting) and Nix has founded his "What If?" Blog. Which is awesome and can be found at whatifhuh.blogspot.com.au.

Anyway, basically the point of this post is to let y'all know that Nix and Mist is going to be out, but probably delayed by...not sure how long. But hey, quality over quantity, right?

Nixion was sure that they’d fail. They would never stand a chance with this crew of pathetic misfits. They had a vampire, a necromancer, an elementalist, a metal-bender-person-thingy, a person who could change the shape of her hands, and two people who had no magic besides fighting abilitieswhatsoever. Lyra was good, Nixion knew seeing as he had battled her himself. She was impressive, formidable and deadly. Overall, a rather excellent combination of skills. But Nixion didn't trust this new person Thomas, Kali and Mahogany had brought back with them. He did not know who he was and, although this rule had been broken many times in the past few days, Nixion was firm that he didn’t trust anyone he didn’t know. Even people he did know. Nixion pondered over this for an hour and found that on the inside, the only person he really trusted was Mist. He vowed never to tell anyone this. He took a dislike to this new person at once. Even ignoring the fact that he seemed to share his and Mist’s liking for nothing but black, Nixion got bad vibes coming from him. He knew that this newbie would either be extremely annoying or over-the-top with a fearless attitude and try and take over Mist’s lead on the group. Mist’s lead? Since when had Nixion agreed to that? Mist was not leading this team…or was he?

His name was Stavan, Kali informed them all, and was an ex-Cleaver, fired for “inappropriate behaviour”. That didn’t exactly make him any more popular with Nixion. When Mist had asked Kali how she knew him she had said “We’re old friends.” But Nixion had heard something weird when she had said “friends”. He assumed this meant that she really didn’t like him at all, but knew that he would be helpful in battle.

Either that or they had dated…

Now that he took a closer look, it seemed that this newbie really did dress a lot like Mist in particular. He dressed all in complete black. A black jacket stretched down to his boots which were also black. A black shirt accompanied by black pants hung loosely on his body. His hair was black too, but, unlike Mist’s, it spiked up a bit and had been cut messily. He carried a Clever’s Scythe with him and Nixion wondered why he still had one. Surely the Sanctuary would have taken it back when he had been fired. Nixion hated the cocky grin, that confident smile, that seemed permanently plastered to his face. It didn’t get better when he got the feeling that it wasn’t there because he was eternally happy, but more because he really was going to be the annoying, arrogant person Nixion had suspected of him earlier. Mist was leaning against a wall, the fire that hung in its holder behind him sending flickering lights to play on the back of his hair. He was making a plan with Thomas and Hunter and he seemed to be disagreeing with them over something. Dark was somewhere else in the Sanctuary, doing something that Nixion didn’t care about. Lyra, Kali and Mahogany were talking to Stavan, and he was licking up the attention. Mahogany seemed to like him well enough, but it was clear that Lyra didn’t think much of him and Kali was shifting around, biting her lip absent minded and looking down at the ground, holding one of her own arms by the elbow.

Nixion was sure that Mist and himself would do well, of course. Nixion couldn’t go wrong and as for Mist, the chances are that he had already been in similar situations such as this plenty of times before. When it came to terms of fighting, Nixon was rather good if he said so himself. Not much stood in his way when he wanted something. And Mist was even better. Not that he’d ever tell Mist that. Mist must never know how much Nixion doubted himself. However, Mist would really be doing most of the work on this case. Nixion was rubbish at nearly anything but fighting. Thomas could bend metal. That was it. Lyra was a weapons expert, not a detective, nor was Mahogany, but Nixion really had no idea what she did for a living. Kali wasn’t much of a detective as far as he knew and as for this Stavan…Well, he’d see what he could do soon enough. And Dark and Hunter were simply there. A necromancer and a vampire. God, help him…

Nixion himself was sitting in a dark corner, alone. He had no interest in making plans, or talking to Stavan. Or anyone else. Yet, he had an unsettling urge to talk to someone. Throughout all his life, even before the kidnapping, Nixion (Aiden back then) had preferred to be alone. He liked the silence, the solitude, the way he could think without interruption. So when he felt the urge to talk to people, like now, it confused him. Sometimes even worried him. He didn’t like it when he was confused. He liked it even less when he was worried. If he was worried then it usually meant his life was in danger. And though this situation didn’t involve imminent death, Stavan’s stupidity that Nixion was sure was there, could very easily lead him to his death, should he allow it. He made a mental note to himself never to trust Stavan or do anything he suggested, even if Mist agreed to it.

…Why was he placing Mist’s opinion in a position of power? That in itself was unnatural. Something was wrong with Nixion today. Perhaps the Healer’s had done something to him. He made another mental note to slaughter them all should he ever be driven into insanity again.

He looked up and Nixion became aware of Stavan standing over him. He allowed himself a second to scowl at himself for not noticing sooner and then redirected his scowl at Stavan who was grinning like a…a cat… Nixion had once read about it in a book. A…Cherry cat? He wasn’t sure…It wasn’t that Nixion couldn’t remember, it was that Nixion could barely read. Damn limited education.“Can I sit down?” Stavan asked, gesturing to the floor besides Nixion. Damn limited chairs, too, he continued in his head. Nixion thought for a moment of Stavan’s request.

“No.” he decided firmly.

Stavan laughed as if he appreciated the joke and waited for Nixion to say something else.

When he didn’t, Stavan’s brow furrowed for a moment before sitting himself down beside Nixion awkwardly.

“Oh, for…” Nixion muttered and shifted away from Stavan. Because he was taller than Nixion, he had a harder time getting comfortable. He didn’t think the scythe strapped to his back helped.

“So,” he said, giving up trying to get comfortable and grinning and Nxion. “You just looked so lonely here, by yourself that I had to sit here. I just didn’t have a choice.”

Nixion made a sound that may have been a conformation or a threat as he vomited on the inside. Stavan took it as the former and continued.

“I hear you have quite the reputation for a thirteen year old kid.” He said happily, still looking at Nixion while he looked determinedly away. He realized after a few seconds he was staring at Lyra and he hurriedly redirected his gaze down to the ground as their eyes interlocked for a second. “And not all of its good.”

“Fourteen,” Nixion practically growled. “And almost fifteen now.”

Nixion hated birthdays. They reminded him of home, and how he could never go back there. A lot of things reminded him of home. Even hot dogs…somehow…

Nixion noticed that somehow Stavan was talking about one of his fights. At first, Nixion was sceptical, and thought he was making a lot of it up. But as the details got more complicated and exciting, the more Nixion found himself listening to every word.

“There’s no way you could get a vampires head to do that,” Nixion tried to stop grinning. Stavan seemed to give off a certain enthusiasm that was contagious.

Stavan paused, then searched his pockets for something. “Oh. It seems I don’t have a vampire head handy at the moment. Do you?”

Nixion thought for a moment, then looked at Hunter

“I have an idea where you could get one.” He replied.

Stavan laughed. Against his better judgement, Nixion found himself liking the ex-Cleaver.

“How’d you get fired anyway?” Nixion asked.

Stavan’s grin seemed to disappear for a second. Then he smiled, but it wasn’t as enthusiastic as his grin was.

“They didn’t seem to think that my behaviour was appropriate for a Cleaver.”

“Why?” Nixion was curious. The way he said it, it seemed like the Sanctuary had blown something he did out of proportion.

Now Stavan’s grin was back. “Apparently,” he said, “Dancing when people pass, or pretending to attack citizens visiting the Sanctuary is inappropriate.”

Nixion laughed

“You actually did that?”

“What? Me? No, I would never do something so irresponsible.” Stavan said in a pompous manner.

“So they fired you for dancing?” Nixion asked sceptically. He thought this was highly unfair.

“Yeah.” He laughed along. “I had a great track record. I was a great fighter, and saved lots of lives heaps of times. But I didn’t take orders well. I did my own thing, and even if it worked, they weren’t happy.”

Nixion frowned, partially because it sounded so much like him.

“Why would you become a cleaver if you weren’t serious and didn’t take orders?” he asked.

Stavan sighed.

“My family were powerful sorcerers, but I just wasn’t that good at magic.” He said and Nixion could tell he was now getting the “My Past” speech. “I was trying to become an elemental, but I was horrible at it. Even after a three years of training, I had trouble even to make a spark appear. When I pushed the air, I was lucky if someone stumbled a bit. Then I found out about Cleavers. Guards, enforcers and the army all in one, and limited magic required. It was perfect, I thought. When the surge came around, I locked myself into fighting magic, and became a cleaver.”

Nixion nodded.

“Seems fair enough.”

Stavan was about to say something when Mist spoke up. “Alright,” he said, a sense if achievement in his voice. ‘We have a plan. We’ve had Sanctuary detectives searching for evidence of any of the Remaining, so we can find someone”

“So we’ve had other people looking for clues, and we’re the ones who get to fight?” Nixion asked. “I like that.”

Mist glared at him.

“Sorry,” Nixion said, obviously not sorry at all. Mist shrugged, accepting the apology that held no meaning behind it far faster than he expected.

“So far we’ve come up with three leads. I think we should split into three groups.” Mist continued. “The first lead, the most promising one will be taken by Stavan, Hunter and Kali.”

Nixion frowned. Stavan was good according to both Mist and Stavan, and Kali was alright. But why send Hunter on that mission? They had never seen him fight. And why wouldn’t Mist want to go on this one personally? If it was one that was most likely to amount to something, surely he would want to see it himself.

“The second lead is going to be taken by Lyra, Mahogany and Dark.”

Nixion groaned. He might have had a limited education, but even he could work out who was left.

“And finally, me, Nixion and Thomas will take the third, least likely lead.” Mist finished, clapping his hands together and grinning at Nixion maddeningly, silently tempting him to burst out in anger.

Then Mist began talking about where the groups were going, and what sort of lead was it. Nixion was barley listening. They were going on the worst lead. This was going to be boring. And he was going with Mist.

This was going to be so boring…

Nixion struggled up, Stavan doing the same beside him and they joined the rest of the team that had assembled around Mist. He really did seem to be taking charge…

“So you all know where you’re going then?” he asked the group at large after four more minutes. “Excellent. Get going then.” They all turned away and swarmed for the exit corridor to the right leaving Thomas, Mist and Nixion alone. Thomas remained for a few seconds, then headed for the exit too. Mist made to follow him, but muttered something to Nixion as he passed.

“It’s good to see you’ve made a friend.” He grinned.

Nixion scowled.

***

Nixion, Mist and Thomas were going to “visit” (Thomas had used that word in an attempt to cheer Nixion up when he had started muttering darkly which earned him a punch to the gut. Mist had not approved of this action but Thomas had said not to worry) an old factory that had been used by a few sorcerers who had needed a place to stay while on the run from the Sanctuary a few years back. Hidden and barely noticed, it was a good place to hide out. However, it was unlikely that any of the Remaining would be stupid enough to hide in it, especially since the Sanctuary had made a note to go and check on the place every two months.

“Why’d you give us the worst place to go?” Nixion complained darkly as they walked towards the horribly unlikely lead. He only just managed to restrain himself from saying “And making us take one of the worse team members along too.”.

Thomas was only thirteen, and his magic was a strange ability to have. Nixion failed to see how it would be useful in a fight. He had never seen Thomas fight, and despite reassurances that he was a good combatant from Mist, he still thought that Thomas was mostly, if not entirely, useless to the rest of the group.

“Think of it as a test,” Mist said.

“A test?” Nixion asked him incredulously.

Mist shrugged.

“I’m testing a hunch I have.”

Nixion looked at him for a second, but when it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anymore, Nixion simply scowled at the ground as they continued walking, rocks and other useless things crunching under his boot from below.

Within a few minutes, they were outside the door to the factory. It was made of what looked to be rusting metal. Mist nodded at Thomas, and he went off somewhere along the side. Before Nixion could ask how they had devised the form of sign language without his knowledge, Mist held his ear up to the door and listened intensely. Nixion scowled at the door as Mist listen to it. Thomas was doing his own thing, Mist was being the door whisperer, and Nixion was in the dark, completely confused about what was going on. Mist listened for another few seconds, then nodded to himself and looked at Nixion.

“Come on,” Nixion said, annoyed. “What are the chances that somebody’s here? Why did we even bother coming to this place?”

“I’m ready.” Thomas’ voice came from behind Nixion, and he turned around.

Thomas was wearing what appeared to be armour made of metal that he had torn of something. It wasn't pretty, but it looked threatening. It was made up of different pieces of the same reddish metal. The pieces were pushed tightly together, and it looked crumbled but stable. There were gaps for the eyes, and another for the mouth. At the hands, there were no fingers, just a mitten style four fingers together, and the thumb separate. Only Thomas’ power let him move in the armour, moving the metal as he walked, or raised his arm. He could be the young Ned Kelly.

Nixion raised his eyebrows, seeing for the first time that Thomas’ power could be useful. Mist simply nodded and opened the factory door, revealing a long corridor. It creaked as it opened, so if anyone was here, they’d hear about it. And every step Thomas took clanged against the concrete floor. Stealth was out of the question, so they quickly ran through the corridor, hoping to catch anyone there before they could prepare themselves. As they slammed through the doors at the end of the corridor, they found them waiting.

An army of Hollow Men were standing there, spread throughout the ground floor of the factory. On the second floor, there was a stage sort of thing, where people from the second floor could see onto the first. It wasn’t quite a balcony. More of a weird distortion of the ground. Like a chunk had been carelessly slabbed on. On that stage was a man. He was an average man, nothing stood out about him. If Nixion had seen him on the street, he would have ignored him. However, here, with the man grinning down at them, and an army of Hollow Men surrounding them, Nixion felt compelled to pay attention.

The man was average in height and size. He had black hair, and brown eyes. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Absolutely nothing stood out about him. Except for the fact that he was in the factory.

Mist straightened up and drew his daggers calmly. “Keeve.” He nodded to the man as if he was greeting an old acquaintance. “I thought you were in Germany?.”

The man, obviously named Keeve, unless Mist just decided to call one of the Hollow Men that, smiled.

“You don’t know a lot of things,” he said, wiping hair that didn’t reach his eyes out of his eyes.

Then he looked at Nixion.

“Quite the little psychopath, aren’t you?” he asked him, obviously having done his research on Nixion already. “Sure you’re on the right side?”

Nixion opened his mouth to say something threatening, but Mist interrupted him before he spoke.

“Why are you here?” he asked. “Surely you’d know that we’d find you here. Or is it just a recent move?”

Nixion had no idea what he was on about, but Keeve smiled.

“Work it out,” he said, and by some signal, all the Hollow Men moved towards them.

Nixion drew his machete quickly, and in the same movement cut through a Hollow Men’s stomach sending horrid gasses leaking through the room. Mist sliced through a Hollow Men carelessly and leaped around the skin that crumpled to the ground and ran for the stairs. Thomas simply punched the papery army, making holes in their skin, causing them to deflate. Nixion cut through them, but the machete was too big, and the hallow men were crowding around him, making it hard to use the weapon properly. He was pushed from behind, sending him into Mist’s path. He staggered away for a second, ran into another Hollow Man and returned to Mist after slicing it open again.

Nixion looked up at the stage, judging how far it was. Then he nodded and said to Mist, “I’m going to jump up there.”

“What?” Mist asked him incredulously, and he knew that he was underestimating the power of this enemy Mist had already encountered before. No, I’ll go.”

Nixion shook his head quickly, ducking under a Hollow Man fist and slicing it’s head off in succession.

Mist said something - probably a warning - but Nixion was no longer listening. He ran forward a few steps and pushed off the ground, his right foot landing on a Hollow Men head. He used that as a platform, and managed to get his fingers on the edge of the stage. He pulled himself up, rolled and came up with his machete shining against the air menacingly. Keeve was just standing there, not disturbed in the slightest about the ex-serial killer standing in front of him. Can you be an ex-serial killer? It didn’t sound right to Nixion. What changes you from being a murder and an ex-murder? Do you have to have stopped for a certain amount of time…? He should know this type of stuff.

Probably.

Keeve smiled at him.

“Are you sure you’re on the right side?” he repeated. “It’s not too late to change.” He held out his hand as if inviting him over to the dark side. Nixion wondered if they had cookies. He could see it now…

“Come, Nixion. Join us, convert to the dark side. We have cookies.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass.” Nixion snarled, pulling himself away from the temptation of what could have been a potential cookie fest.

Keeve’s fingers curled into his palm and clenched into a fist.

“That was a one-time offer boy,” he warned. He waited a second before nodding. Nixion wondered why he was so interested. The Keeve opened his mouth and unleashed a sonic wave.

The wave screeched and shook Nixion’s ears. His eyes screwed up and Nixion staggered back, his hands clutching at his ears as the machete clattered to the ground. This sonic wave was killing him. The pain ate at him and his brain shook violently, all form of thought cut off.

Nixion attempted to back away from it. The sonic wave went all the way to the wall at the other end of the factory, but Nixion’s head was scrambled, and by instinct he backed away. Luck suddenly decided to help him and Nixion tripped over his own feet which sent him sideways, out of the path of the sonic wave, and crashing to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Nixion caught sight of Keeve turning to Mist and Thomas battling on the ground below and unleashed another sonic wave crashing down on them.

Mist saw what was coming for him just in time and managed to leap out of the way. Thomas, in his heavy armour, didn’t. All the Hollow Men within the reach of the sonic wave swelled up and exploded sending the room into a never ending spiral of putrid smelling gas. Nixion thought that Thomas would be protected by his armour. But when the sonic wave hit him, he brought his arms up to his head, as if trying to protect it and Nixion could hear his screams.

Nixion tried to stand, but felt dizzy. He could barely see, his vision was all blurry and his head pounded. Every part of him felt sore, as if he had just been fighting for several days straight. He felt drained.

Mist used the air to get himself up to the stage. Keeve pulled away from the sonic wave, and turned to him. Thomas was still screaming, but they were getting quieter and Nixion saw he was on the ground now, barely conscious.

Keeve let loose another sonic wave, and it knocked Mist backwards. Nixion wasn’t caught in it and used this to his advantage. Despite his disorientation and pain, Nixion staggered forwards and launched himself into Keeve, knocking him sideways and stopping the sonic wave. Mist hadn’t screamed in pain and was already on his feet again but one of his eyes was shut and his was clutching at his shoulder painfully. The sonic wave stopped, and through his blurred vision, Nixion could see Keeve running away, out a door at the back to of stage. Mist was up first, running after him. Nixion took a second to get his bearing and ran after Mist. Unlike Mist, he walked forward cautiously. He picked up his machete, which was still vibrating slightly, and walked towards to door. They would be way ahead of him by now, if they were still running. He had no hope of catching up. He was tired, and felt like he needed to sleep. His skin stung and his head was killing him. Nixion peeked around the door, and saw it split into two corridors. The left was in perfect order, everything straight and neat. The right had glass on the floor from exploded picture frames, pieces of a wooden table spread everywhere and dents in the metal walls. Nixion took a wild guess and went right.

He tried to listen for the obvious sound of the sonic wave, but his ears were ringing and Nixion could barely hear anyway. His footsteps sounded muffled, as if he had cotton wool in his ears. At the end of the corridor, it had a left turn. Nixion took it and saw more damage littered across the once neat hallways. Nixion took a few more steps then heard something that he could only describe as a vibrating in the air. His machete vibrated a little faster, and he started running. He took a right turn and just saw Mist taking a left turn. Nixion quickly followed, and in a few seconds was running right behind Mist as they chased Keeve.

Keeve looked over his shoulder and saw that they were gaining on him. He looks tired, Nixion thought. He realised that his magic took a lot out of him.

Keeve quickly spun around and a sonic wave bigger than all the others hit Mist and Nixion. Nixion felt as if his head was splitting apart. His eyesight faded to hazy impressions, and a few seconds later, his hearing stopped. His bones felt like they were being pushed apart from the inside, and his muscles felt like they were dying. And that was nothing compared to Mist. Mist had been just a few steps behind Keeve when he was hit, and it affected him worse than it did to Nixion. And yet he still saw Mist staggering around as the sonic wave dissipated. For three seconds Nixion was amazed at Mist still on his feet. But then he collapsed onto his knees and lost consciousness as the rest of his body came crashing onto the ground. Nixion was at least two meters behind Mist, but he didn’t think he could stand another second of it. He fell down onto his back, his body numb, and was about to fall into blissful unconsciousness when the pain really kicked in. Instead of forcing Nixion into a black out, it woke him up instead. Head still pounding, body still screaming at him, Nixion blinked for a second, confused. Then he saw that Keeve thought he had fallen. Nixion sat up and looked at where Keeve had been standing. He was gone, thinking he had won. The numbness then stopped, and Nixion rolled onto his side and threw up. His head felt like it was made of jelly. He wasn’t even on his feet, yet he was swaying. Nixion got to his feet and took an unsteady step. The world was spinning, but Nixion could barely see any of it anyway. He blinked a few times to get his vision clearer, and looked down at Mist.

Through his blurred eyes, he couldn’t see if he was alright, but after a few seconds, Mist began to stir. Nixion saw this as a good sign, and went after Keeve. He couldn’t let someone attack him like that and get away with it. If he was a person who thought about things before doing them, he might have realised that it was unlikely that he would beat anyone in his condition. But Nixion wasn’t a thinker. He was a man of action, and his action right now was staggering after Keeve. And occasionally falling over too.

After a few steps he began to get into a rhythm. After a while, he was practically running. He guessed which corners to turn, and hoped he was right. It was all he could do to prevent himself from spewing every two seconds, he couldn’t stop to think which corner to turn around.

In a couple of minutes, he rounded a seventh corner and saw Keeve walking calmly. Nixion’s anger overtook him, and ignoring the pain, he charged towards Keeve. The man frowned and turned, just in time to see the handle of a machete slam into his face.

Keeve stumbled backwards, trying to concentrate despite the steady flow of blood now streaming down from his nose. Nixion dropped his machete and tapped his fingertips against Keeve’s collarbone. Keeve opened his mouth and screamed without making a sound. Nixion swept his legs from under him and frowned. Something wasn’t right. Keeve was on the ground moaning silently. That was it. Keeve was making noise, Nixion just couldn’t hear it. Where were the screams, the sound of bones snapping? Nixion knelt down, and gripping Keeve’s hair, slammed his head against the ground. No, not even knocking sound. Nixion stood and kicked Keeve in the ribs. He was unconscious now, but it made Nixion feel better. He touched his ear and realised his ears were bleeding. He hoped the Sanctuary Healers got here in time to fix them. He dragged Keeve into a room, got a pair of shackles and cuffed Keeve, putting the chains behind the bed post. Then he punched him in the jaw for good measure.

Nixion turned away from Keeve and began walking back to where he had left Mist. By the time he got there, having taken a few wrong turns, Mist was standing up and had already called the Sanctuary. It soon became apparent that he couldn’t hear any more than Nixion could so the two just nodded to each other and made their way back to Thomas. He didn’t know how the Sanctuary officials were going to find Keeve, but chances were they would strip the place down looking for him anyway so it didn’t really matter. Instead, Mist started making movements to go and check on Thomas.

Nixion nodded and ran ahead of Mist back towards Thomas. He had completely forgotten about him.

When he got to the stage, he looked down and saw that Thomas was lying there. Weak, Nixion thought. Both he and Mist were up by now, but Thomas was still lying there, unconscious.

He walked down the stairs and stood over Thomas.

“Get up,” he said sceptically. Although he couldn’t hear himself, he was sure it was audible, even with armour on. Then he realised that Thomas might be deaf too. He knelt down and shook him.

Something wasn’t right with the armour. He touched a piece at the arm, and then peeled it off. It was more like tinfoil then the original metal. The he saw Thomas’ skin.

It was like someone had taken a hammer to it. His arm was bruised and yellow. Every so often, a small rupture was there, like the hammer had managed to get through to the flesh in some places. Nixion touched his arm. It was cold. Nixion looked up at Mist as horror surged through him.

Nixion out Thomas on his back and ripped of the face armour.

He was definitely dead. His blank eyes looked up at the ceiling. Thomas’ face was the same as his arm; bruised and ruptured. Blood was pooling from his ears. Nixion realised that when he heard Thomas’ scream getting quieter, it hadn’t been him getting over the pain. It had been him dying.

Nixion scowled. This boy was only thirteen. He had a family. He had a life outside fighting. He didn’t deserve to die.

Nixion stood and looked at the stage. Mist was standing there dragging an unconscious Keeve behind him. Nixion didn’t care how he had managed to find the criminal so quickly. Despite what Nixion had thought about Thomas before, he realized he really didn’t want him gone. Nixion looked at Mist and shook his head. Mist closed his eyes for a second. Then he looked up and threw Keeve over the side of the stage. He followed, using the air to cushion his fall. Keeve hit the ground hard, and Mist, after landing, kicked his head hard as he walked to Nixion.

Suddenly, Mist looked over his shoulder, and Nixion spun around, thinking it was more Hollow Men. In actual fact, it was the Cleavers, running through the door, followed by other Sanctuary agents and Healers. Nixion looked at Keeve as he was dragged away by Cleavers.